Blood On The SnowRevised
by Waddles52
Summary: Hoping to spend a quiet Christmas evening together, Mulder and Scully find that things don't always go as planned.


Title: Blood On The Snow  
  
Author: Waddles52 and Truthwebothknow1  
  
Summary: Mulder and Scully must spend Christmas at   
  
the office when all vacations are cancelled.  
  
Rating: PG13  
  
Category: MT, MSR  
  
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Chris Carter   
  
and 1013 productions.  
  
Archives: Written for the MR December Fic Challenge.  
  
Please ask afterward.  
  
Scully watched, exhausted, as they took her partner   
  
away. Swirling dust made a whirlpool in the half-  
  
light as he was lifted free. Later, she would recall   
  
the rescue, the climb over debris and the pain she   
  
felt herself, both physically and emotionally. The   
  
feel of a hand at her back and an arm around her   
  
shoulders guided her along the ground into the frigid   
  
December night, feet crunching on snow now instead of   
  
glass and splintered wood. Not Mulder's hand, her   
  
brain screamed. Ahead of her she saw his arm slide   
  
limply from under the blanket they'd placed over him,   
  
watching as if outside her own body as blood dripped   
  
from the bandages, dotting the snow, leaving a trail   
  
to the waiting ambulance.  
  
Hoover Building 9AM, several days earlier.  
  
The meeting was dismissed and the F.B.I. agents made   
  
their way out of the conference room noiselessly. AD   
  
Skinner felt like he was probably the most hated   
  
person in the building at that particular moment. He   
  
was Ebenezer Scrooge and The Grinch Who Stole   
  
Christmas all rolled into one miserable excuse for a   
  
human being. Although he was only following orders,   
  
he had just announced to the agents under his   
  
supervision that all Christmas leave was cancelled,   
  
including Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.  
  
In the hallway the saddened agents were still in   
  
shock. Not a word was said as they made their way   
  
back to their offices.  
  
Although Special Agent Fox Mulder really couldn't   
  
care less whether he had to work during the holidays,   
  
he was extremely upset for his partner. Christmas   
  
was a big deal to Special Agent Dana Scully and her   
  
family, and she had already made plans to spend it   
  
with her mother, brothers and all of the sister-in-  
  
laws and nieces and nephews. Now, it looked like   
  
she'd be lucky to find the time to call them on   
  
Christmas Day.  
  
Mulder wisely refrained from saying anything to her.   
  
In this situation it would be best to let her speak   
  
first. They rode the elevator to their basement   
  
office in silence. Mulder unlocked the door and   
  
Scully plopped into her chair and sighed loudly.   
  
"I guess I should cancel my flight," she stated,   
  
reaching for her organizer to look up the number.   
  
"Maybe I can still get a partial refund."  
  
"I'm sorry, Scully. I know how much you look forward   
  
to Christmas with your family."  
  
"Thanks, Mulder. It's too bad that terrorists have   
  
no respect for our holidays." She found the number   
  
of the airline and punched in the numbers angrily.  
  
Mulder took his seat behind his desk and tried to   
  
appear busy while she cancelled her plans. He   
  
wondered what he could do to take some of the sting   
  
out of the situation; however, he was nervous about   
  
broaching the subject. "Here goes," he thought.   
  
"The worst she can do is say no." He took a deep   
  
breath and let it out.  
  
"Scully, I know this is a pretty poor substitute, but   
  
I'd like to take you out for a nice meal on Christmas   
  
Day."  
  
"Oh, Mulder. I think it's a wonderful idea. What   
  
did you have in mind?"  
  
"Well, I happen to know that several of the nicer   
  
hotels have an all-day Christmas buffet with turkey,   
  
ham and all the trimmings. If you like, I can make   
  
reservations for that evening after we get off from   
  
work."  
  
"Yes, please do. I'd love to spend Christmas evening   
  
with you," she managed to smile.  
  
"Great! I'll take care of that now."   
  
Mulder couldn't believe his incredible luck as he   
  
searched for the number of the fanciest hotel in the   
  
city. He usually sat in front of the TV with a   
  
Hungry Man turkey dinner and a beer, but this year   
  
would be special. He would be spending it with his   
  
best friend who also happened to be the love of his   
  
life. Maybe he would even get up the nerve to tell   
  
her how he really felt.  
  
The next few days seemed to drag by. The mood in the   
  
Hoover Building was definitely not filled with   
  
Christmas cheer. Even though the agents brought in   
  
treats, and drank hot chocolate and eggnog, the   
  
overall feeling was one of gloom. Even the promise   
  
of snow on Christmas Eve didn't cause the normal   
  
excitement.  
  
Although Mulder griped and complained around the   
  
other agents, he was actually walking on air. He had   
  
found the perfect present for Scully a few months   
  
back. It was a book of poetry about the sea and he   
  
planned to give it to her at dinner on Christmas Day.  
  
At the same time he found the book of poetry in a   
  
small antique shop, he also spotted a small painting   
  
of a seascape. He couldn't decide whether to give it   
  
to her for Christmas or hold it until her birthday.   
  
Well, he had two days left to decide.  
  
At last, Christmas Day arrived and the agents were   
  
still grumbling. Despite being on alert and chasing   
  
down hundreds of tips and false leads, not one   
  
terrorist plan had been stopped, or even found for   
  
that matter. Christmas was ruined for nothing.  
  
Skinner had arranged for his division to be fed that   
  
day. Even though it wasn't the traditional Christmas   
  
meal, there were trays heaped with cold cuts and   
  
cheese. Several types of salads were provided along   
  
with Christmas cookies and pumpkin and pecan pie.   
  
The same agents who had griped and complained about   
  
their supervisor all week didn't seem to have a   
  
problem chowing down on the meal he provided. As a   
  
special treat, he had even managed to round up   
  
several large containers of eggnog ice cream, hand   
  
made at an upscale dairy bar in the suburbs.  
  
Although they were tempted, Mulder and Scully just   
  
nibbled on a few of the goodies. They were both   
  
looking forward to the sumptuous buffet with all the   
  
trimmings. Their reservations were for 7PM and they   
  
intended to leave plenty of room for the more   
  
traditional Christmas fare.  
  
Shortly after 4PM, Mulder had just finished another   
  
game of solitaire on his computer. Scully had been   
  
cleaning out some of the file cabinets and shredding   
  
some of the papers they no longer needed. When the   
  
machine stopped, Mulder heard footsteps on the   
  
stairs. That was rather unusual, as they were rarely   
  
used. He listened carefully and heard the sound of   
  
someone running up the stairs. Someone was   
  
definitely out there.  
  
"Scully, stay here. I'm going to check that out."   
  
Mulder got up from his desk and unsnapped his holster   
  
to provide easy access to his gun.  
  
"Mulder," Scully chuckled. "It's probably some of   
  
the guys from the bullpen horsing around. They're   
  
just as bored as we are."  
  
"Maybe, but I'm going to check it out anyway."  
  
"Suit yourself." She shrugged and reached for   
  
another stack of papers to run through the shredder.  
  
The machine whirred to life once again. It was so   
  
loud that she didn't hear the sound of Mulder's   
  
hurried footsteps as he burst through the door. He   
  
pushed her under the desk and she thought she heard   
  
him shout, "Bomb!" before the building came crashing   
  
down on top of them.  
  
The explosion was deafening and Scully was amazed   
  
that she was still alive by the time all of the   
  
debris stopped falling. She expected to find her   
  
partner squeezed in beside her under the desk, but   
  
she soon realized that he hadn't made it to the   
  
safety it had afforded her.  
  
She experienced a moment of panic as her brain   
  
processed everything. Mulder! She had to find him.   
  
Dazed and shocked, she began to scan what was left of   
  
their office.  
  
As the dust began to clear she found him lying a foot   
  
away from her, almost completely buried by debris.   
  
Only his left leg was visible. The smell of blood   
  
permeated the dust still swirling through the dim   
  
light. Since she wasn't hurt badly herself, that   
  
only meant one thing. Scully crawled out from under   
  
the desk wincing as the cuts and bruises on her hands   
  
and knees began to make their presence known. Truth   
  
be told, she hurt all over, but there wasn't time to   
  
dwell on her minor injuries. She needed to get to   
  
her partner and begin removing the debris that   
  
covered him. Choking back dust and tears she started   
  
pulling off rubble, one piece at a time.  
  
After what seemed like hours, but was probably only a   
  
few minutes, she had cleared enough of the wreckage   
  
that was once their office away from his head and   
  
upper body that she was able to shakily reach out her   
  
hand to his neck to feel for a pulse. The female   
  
agent almost collapsed with relief when she felt it,   
  
a little fast but strong.  
  
There were small cuts and bruises all over his face   
  
and the back of his head. He was lying face down so   
  
it was difficult to see all of his injuries at first.  
  
She continued to remove the debris piece by piece   
  
until she had all of the debris off of him.  
  
Mulder was lying with his right arm tucked underneath   
  
him, his white dress shirt red in places where the   
  
debris had dug into him and broken the skin on his   
  
back. Blood running down his face mixed in with the   
  
dust and debris from the ceiling. Scully continued   
  
to evaluate the injuries she could see, taking note   
  
of his right ankle, which appeared to be dislocated.   
  
Her eyes traveled up his body once again and she was   
  
horrified to discover a growing pool of blood coming   
  
from what appeared to be his right arm. She was   
  
preparing to roll him over when he coughed, then   
  
moaned loudly.  
  
"Mulder, don't try to move. You've been injured."  
  
"Mmm, yeah. You okay?" He coughed again, attempting   
  
to remove more of the dust from his lungs. "Damn,   
  
that hurts."  
  
"Can you tell me where you hurt?"  
  
"My head, my entire right side. Something big hit   
  
me."  
  
"I pulled your office chair and your computer monitor   
  
off of you."  
  
"That would explain it. You didn't answer me. You   
  
okay?" he demanded, breathing heavily.   
  
"Just some bumps and bruises. Thank you for shoving   
  
me under the desk."  
  
"Wish I'd had time to join you."  
  
"I need to roll you over. You're bleeding and I need   
  
to see where it's coming from."  
  
"My right arm really hurts. Must've broke it when I   
  
fell."  
  
"We'll see when I get you turned over. Let me do all   
  
of the work. Don't try to help. Do you understand?"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"On three, okay? One, two, three." She log rolled   
  
him onto his back, trying to keep his head and neck   
  
steady, aware that she was still shaking herself, all   
  
the time knowing he must be in terrible pain if his   
  
cries of agony were anything to go by.  
  
Blood was pouring from a large gash on the right side   
  
of his forehead. Scully's eyes moved down and took   
  
in his blood soaked shirt. Right below the rolled up   
  
sleeve on his right arm was a sight that made her   
  
gasp. Mulder's arm was severely broken, one of the   
  
bones protruding from his skin in a compound   
  
fracture.  
  
"Oh, shit," he moaned when he saw it, his face   
  
turning a sickly shade of pale.  
  
"Hang in there, partner. I'm going to look around   
  
for something to use as a splint and get you patched   
  
up. Just lie very still"  
  
Scully turned 360 degrees in her search for material   
  
suitable for making a splint. She finally spied a   
  
couple of old magazines under a pile of near-by   
  
debris. She quickly pulled them out and folded them   
  
in half so that the back page advertisement was   
  
showing. Mulder might get a little upset at the   
  
sacrifice of two of his 'Celebrity Skin' monthlies   
  
and she certainly didn't want to stare at a scantily   
  
clad beauty until they were rescued.  
  
She took off her jacket and began unbuttoning her   
  
blouse. Mulder watched her wide-eyed, puzzled as to   
  
why she was removing her clothing. With her blouse   
  
off, she put her jacket back on, buttoning it   
  
quickly. She removed a clean handkerchief from her   
  
right pocket and pressed it against the gash on his   
  
forehead.  
  
The doctor, turned F.B.I. agent, began tearing her   
  
blouse into strips. "Mulder, I'm going to make an   
  
effort to pull that bone back into place, then splint   
  
it. I don't think I have to tell you that it will   
  
hurt like the devil."  
  
"Go ahead," he nodded then closed his eyes, taking a   
  
shaky breath. He knew it was going to hurt like a   
  
son-of-a-bitch and he just hoped that he wouldn't   
  
embarrass himself by screaming too loudly.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she pulled on his arm and   
  
maneuvered the bone back into place. Mulder cried   
  
out in anguish, then thankfully lost consciousness.   
  
His partner worked quickly to get the arm splinted   
  
before he came to.  
  
With that task accomplished, she pulled up his shirt   
  
to examine his chest and abdomen, noting the livid   
  
bruise across his entire right side. At least one   
  
rib was fractured, maybe more.  
  
While he was still out, she turned her attention to   
  
his right ankle. It slipped back into place easily   
  
due to his relaxed state. Using one of the remaining   
  
strips of cloth from her blouse, the doctor tied it   
  
around her partner's head to hold the handkerchief in   
  
place.  
  
When she finished, she allowed herself a moment to   
  
rest and look around their totaled office. Outside,   
  
sirens were screaming. She prayed that their rescue   
  
would be a swift one. Water poured down the side of   
  
the wall, mingling with the dust, and she found   
  
herself wondering how safe the rest of the building   
  
was. Would the rescue workers be able to reach them?  
  
Mulder coughed again and groaned loudly from the pain   
  
it caused. He opened his eyes, immediately searching   
  
for Scully. She took hold of his hand and stroked   
  
the part of his head that seemed to be uninjured.  
  
"I'm here, Mulder. You've been unconscious for a few   
  
minutes. I splinted your arm and put your ankle back   
  
into place. You have at least one broken rib so   
  
don't try to move. Just stay still and calm. You're   
  
going to be okay. I can hear the rescue workers   
  
trying to make their way through." Her fingers   
  
stroked through his hair, stiff and almost white from   
  
the dust.  
  
He nodded that he understood, the pain keeping him   
  
from speaking for the time being. He heard the   
  
sirens outside and hoped that they would soon be   
  
getting out.  
  
Clearing his throat, he finally managed to make his   
  
voice work. "What time is it?"  
  
"A few minutes after five."  
  
"If they hurry we may still make dinner."  
  
Scully looked at her partner as if he'd just grown   
  
another head. "Mulder, the only place you're going   
  
is to the ER. That arm will require surgery and   
  
you're acting as if it's nothing more than a paper   
  
cut."  
  
"Wanted tonight to be special." Tears of pain and   
  
disappointment began to form in the corner of his   
  
eyes. Scully felt like crying herself at the sight   
  
of him. Another trip to the ER at the worst time of   
  
the year, with Mulder in agony, life sucked   
  
sometimes.  
  
"I know you did, partner." She gently wiped his   
  
tears away. "How about this? I'll fix us a   
  
Christmas dinner with all of the trimmings as soon as   
  
you've recovered enough to enjoy it. We can have our   
  
own private Christmas celebration."  
  
"Sounds nice. Thank you." He listened to the sirens   
  
and the sounds coming from outside the building.   
  
"Rescue team should be here soon."  
  
"Mulder, it might take them a while to get to us."  
  
"Don't think it was much of a bomb. The stairs and   
  
the hallway probably took most of the blast."  
  
"It did quite a number on this office too. The   
  
doorway is blocked. Did you see who was on the   
  
stairs?" Scully checked the splint on his arm,   
  
concerned that the wound was still bleeding heavily.  
  
"Looked like Joe Melton."  
  
"From accounting?" she asked, her surprise quite   
  
evident.  
  
"Yeah, don't think he made it though. He ran back to   
  
check the timer, then tripped on the stairs. I   
  
didn't stick around to offer my help."  
  
"Why would he want to bomb the Hoover Building?"  
  
"He was upset about working. No idea other than   
  
that." Mulder coughed again, grimacing with the   
  
pain. His grip tightened on Scully's hand.  
  
They were both startled by the sound of breaking   
  
glass. "Agent Mulder! Agent Scully! Can you hear   
  
me?" Skinner's concerned voice boomed through the   
  
small window in their office.  
  
"Yes, we're here!" Scully shouted. "Please hurry!   
  
Agent Mulder is badly injured and needs medical   
  
attention now!"  
  
"Agent Scully, listen to me. The stairway is blocked   
  
and we can't use the elevator until it's been checked   
  
out. We'll have to get you out through this window.   
  
It might take a while to get the debris out of the   
  
way. Can Agent Mulder walk?"  
  
"No, he can't. He's losing a lot of blood from a   
  
compound fracture. Please hurry!"  
  
Both agents waited in silence for a few minutes,   
  
wondering when the rescue effort would begin.  
  
Skinner's voice broke the quiet. "The rescue team is   
  
going to send in a paramedic. Hang on, okay? He'll   
  
have to climb over a lot of debris to get to you."  
  
Scully sighed and turned her attention back to her   
  
partner. "Mulder, how're you doing?"  
  
"I'm okay." Scully raised an eyebrow.   
  
"The truth, Mulder."  
  
"I'm freezing my ass off since they broke the window.   
  
I've got the mother of all headaches. My arm hurts   
  
like a son-of-a-bitch and I can't take a deep breath   
  
without expecting a rib to puncture a lung. Other   
  
than that, I'm fine."  
  
Scully chuckled at his list of complaints. "I'm glad   
  
you're not in bad shape then."  
  
"Agent Scully!" a voice called.  
  
"Over here!"  
  
"I just needed to get a fix on your location. I'm on   
  
my way with blankets and medical supplies," the   
  
paramedic called.  
  
For the next few minutes he moved objects aside and   
  
scrambled over others. Mulder held onto Scully's   
  
hand tightly, the pain from his injuries reaching an   
  
excruciating level.  
  
Suddenly, two blankets landed beside Scully along   
  
with a backpack. She looked up and a uniformed man   
  
climbed down from a pile of debris. "Agent Scully?   
  
I'm John Winston. Agent Mulder? How are you doing?"  
  
"I'm okay," he grunted through the pain.  
  
"Well, since I'm here anyway, why don't you let me   
  
take a look at you?"  
  
"Whatever. Just get us out of here. We've got   
  
somewhere to go and we're running out of time."  
  
The paramedic looked to Scully for some   
  
clarification.  
  
"Mulder, settle down. We're not going anywhere until   
  
you get checked out, so why don't you let Mr. Winston   
  
do that?"  
  
All at once Mulder's defense against the pain   
  
shattered. "Okay, my arm does hurt a little."  
  
"I'll bet it does. Let's take this from head to toe.   
  
Agent Scully, AD Skinner informed me of your medical   
  
background. Why don't you fill me in?"  
  
Scully gave him the rundown on Mulder's injuries as   
  
the paramedic took his pulse and blood pressure.   
  
"Well, Agent Mulder, it looks like your partner did a   
  
kick-ass job of first-aid with little to work with."  
  
He opened his backpack and began pulling out   
  
bandages, IV solution, splints and other medical   
  
supplies that might be of use.  
  
"Did you bring any pain medications?" Scully was   
  
very concerned with the amount of pain her partner   
  
was dealing with. When he admitted his arm hurt it   
  
signaled that he had just about reached his limit.  
  
"Yes, I did and the hospital gave special permission   
  
for you to okay their use. That's slightly illegal,   
  
but due to the fact that it might take a while to get   
  
you two out of here, we're going to take a chance.   
  
Now, he has a head wound. Has he shown any signs of   
  
concussion or skull fracture?"  
  
"No. Although he was initially stunned, he never   
  
fully lost consciousness and he's been oriented and   
  
responsive since."  
  
"All right, then. It's your call. I have morphine,   
  
Demerol or Toradol."  
  
"Start an IV, wide-open and we'll go with morphine."  
  
"No drugs, Scully." Mulder had begun to shiver in   
  
earnest from shock and the cold seeping in through   
  
the broken window. Snow was blowing in onto the   
  
rescue workers who were trying to clear a path.  
  
"Mulder, I know you're hurting and I won't allow you   
  
to suffer unnecessarily."  
  
"Agent Mulder, I'm going to clean your wounds and put   
  
on new bandages. There's no way around it. It's   
  
going to hurt like hell."  
  
Mulder thought it over for a few seconds. As much as   
  
he hated drugs, he realized that this would be one   
  
time to make an exception. "Okay, just don't knock   
  
me out."  
  
"You'll be pretty woozy, but you should be able to   
  
talk to us. Hang on, now. I'm going to start that   
  
IV."  
  
A loud crash sounded across the room. "Scully, the   
  
files, are they okay?" Mulder's panicked voice ate   
  
right to the core of her.  
  
Scully stood up on her tiptoes to get a look at that   
  
area of their office. One of the cabinets is on its   
  
side, but the others are upright. I think   
  
everything's intact."  
  
"Can't handle losing them again," he shivered, his   
  
teeth chattering with shock.  
  
His partner grabbed one of the blankets and spread it   
  
over him. "Hang in there, Mulder. He's got the IV   
  
running and he's preparing the morphine."  
  
"Scully, you need to check the files. Have to be   
  
sure everything's okay. Can't let them get wet.   
  
Make sure they don't get thrown away. Move them to a   
  
safe area." His voice disintegrated into a cough.  
  
"Mulder, take it easy. Those files are important to   
  
me too. I'll make sure they're stored in a safe   
  
place. Just rest and let us help you."  
  
They were startled by the sound of another loud crash   
  
followed by the tinkle of breaking glass.  
  
Mulder jumped and tried to sit up. "Gotta save the   
  
files! Ahh . . .shit!" He cried out in pain as   
  
Scully helped him ease back down, doing her best to   
  
reassure him.  
  
"Mulder, those sounds you hear are the rescue team.   
  
They're trying to clear a path through the debris to   
  
get us out. The files are safe."  
  
Scully lovingly caressed her partner's face and   
  
thought back to a time several years back. He had   
  
been devastated when a fire destroyed their office.   
  
Working an untold number of hours, he was eventually   
  
able to restore some of the files which were now   
  
stored in fireproof cabinets. She would do anything   
  
in her power to insure that his life's work remained   
  
safe. She was afraid that Mulder couldn't survive   
  
that much emotional trauma again.  
  
"Morphine's on board," Winston announced.  
  
"Relax Mulder, everything's under control. I want   
  
you to think of that Christmas dinner I'm going to   
  
prepare. I have a present to give you and I think   
  
you'll really enjoy it."  
  
"I've got something for you too, something very   
  
special."  
  
"Oh, really? Do I get any hints?" Scully teased.  
  
"No, no hints, but I may save one of your gifts for   
  
Valentine's Day instead." He grinned goofily as the   
  
morphine began to take hold.  
  
"That sounds intriguing."  
  
"I meant for it to."  
  
John Winston began arranging the items he would need.   
  
He really didn't want to listen in on what was   
  
obviously a very private conversation. "Agent   
  
Mulder, is the morphine helping?"  
  
"Not much. My arm still hurts like a mother."  
  
"I'm sorry. Agent Scully, do you want me to give him   
  
a little more?"  
  
"Yes, I think that might be wise."  
  
"Okay, here goes." He injected it into the IV port   
  
then carefully began removing the bandages from   
  
Mulder's head. As he began to clean the wound,   
  
Mulder roughly grabbed for Scully's hand, worrying   
  
her fingers as he held on tight.  
  
"I know this is really uncomfortable, but if you can   
  
just hang on I should be finished pretty soon."  
  
"I'm trying, but it really hurts." He was gasping   
  
for breath. Scully squeezed his fingers, the contact   
  
with her the only thing holding him together.  
  
"The morphine isn't helping?"  
  
"Don't know. Just hurry," he groaned. Scully   
  
thought her hand would break from the pressure he was   
  
applying.  
  
When he was finished, he took Mulder's blood pressure   
  
again and was surprised at the reading. "It's a   
  
little lower than before," he whispered to Scully.   
  
We need to do something to slow down that bleeding   
  
from his arm."  
  
"I agree. It's going to be very painful for him   
  
though. Why don't you start another IV, wide open?"  
  
The paramedic started the additional IV in Mulder's   
  
left leg, barely getting a response as the needle   
  
went in. Winston looked at Mulder who appeared to be   
  
sleeping. "Agent Mulder, can you hear me?"  
  
"Mmm," was the only answer he received.  
  
"Looks like that's the best we're going to get as far   
  
as pain relief."  
  
"He has a very high tolerance for pain meds." Scully   
  
explained. "He's not out of it as much as you   
  
think."  
  
"Then let's take advantage of what we have. I'm   
  
going to remove your excellent splint and clean the   
  
wound. I'll bandage it with a pressure dressing and   
  
put on another splint. I don't think that morphine   
  
will hold him so you need to keep him as calm as   
  
possible. Okay?"  
  
"Yes, we're old hands at this. Ready when you are."   
  
Scully took a deep breath to steady herself.   
  
Mulder's pain was her pain. Even though she wouldn't   
  
feel it physically, his suffering would shake her to   
  
her very core. The realization that she and Mulder   
  
were one hit her full force. Her eyes blurred for a   
  
second at that revelation.  
  
There had been something between them from the very   
  
moment they met, and it had grown stronger as the   
  
years passed. Today, in the rubble of their life's   
  
work, she realized that she was in love with Mulder.   
  
"What a time for an epiphany," she thought sadly.   
  
Staring into each other's eyes over Christmas dinner   
  
would have been so much nicer, but as she had found   
  
on their very first case together, they couldn't   
  
count on anything or anyone but each other.  
  
Mulder stirred uncomfortably as the paramedic began   
  
to untie the strips of Scully's blouse. By the time   
  
the wound was exposed the agent was writhing in pain.   
  
Scully held his hand and softly stroked his jaw with   
  
the other hand over and over, speaking soothing words   
  
of comfort.  
  
By the time the wound had been cleaned, bandaged and   
  
splinted again, Mulder was practically out of his   
  
mind with excruciating pain.  
  
"Let's take a break before we start to work on his   
  
ankle," Scully suggested.  
  
"Good idea. I think we all need to rest for a few   
  
minutes," Winston agreed. Despite the cold, snowy   
  
air blowing in through the broken window, all three   
  
of them were perspiring heavily.  
  
"You finished?" Mulder gasped  
  
"Almost," the man answered. He wiped his brow on his   
  
sleeve and began to arrange the medical supplies in   
  
the order they would be needed. "How're you holding   
  
up?"  
  
Mulder rolled his eyes in response.  
  
"Agent Mulder, you're doing just fine. Splinting   
  
that ankle should be a piece of cake. Your partner   
  
already did all the hard work."  
  
"She's good." He turned his tortured eyes to Scully.   
  
Through the pain, his love and admiration shone   
  
through. "Couldn't make it without her."  
  
"Then we have something in common." Scully's eyes   
  
showed the same love and admiration. "Because I   
  
couldn't make it without you either." His fingers   
  
tightened their grip.  
  
Though neither agent spoke the word 'love', each knew   
  
what the other was thinking. Tears welled up in both   
  
their eyes. Mulder's left hand squeezed Scully's,   
  
hand gently. She returned the gesture. Each   
  
understood it was the equivalent of a first kiss.  
  
Mulder's breathing and heart rate slowed considerably   
  
as Scully continued to comfort him. The rescue team   
  
seemed to be making progress, inching ever closer.  
  
Feeling much more secure, knowing that Scully   
  
returned his love, and the fact that the rescue crew   
  
was getting closer, he allowed himself to relax. He   
  
was dozing within seconds.  
  
The paramedic hadn't missed any of their unspoken   
  
communication. "Agent Scully, I'm glad you're here   
  
for him. You really helped him handle the pain."  
  
"Mulder has a high pain threshold. I think he would   
  
have done just as well if I wasn't here."  
  
"Having you with him didn't hurt though. Damn it!"   
  
He checked the bandage on Mulder's arm and found that   
  
the blood had already soaked through despite the   
  
pressure wrap. "The bone must have nicked a blood   
  
vessel."  
  
Scully nodded in agreement, worry creasing her brow.  
  
He stood up and peered over a mound of debris. "How   
  
much longer until we can get him out of here?  
  
"Don't know, Win. We're having to hand a lot of this   
  
junk out through the window to make a path"  
  
"Be safe, but hurry it up. This guy needs to get to   
  
the hospital like yesterday."  
  
"Okay, I think there's enough room now to bring   
  
someone else down to help. We'll get there as fast   
  
as we can. Hey, Win, the captain wants to know if   
  
you need any more supplies."  
  
"Nah, I think we're okay for the time being but we'll   
  
need a backboard and neck brace when we're ready to   
  
move him."  
  
"All right. I'll pass that along."  
  
Win turned back to the two F.B.I. agents. "I'm ready   
  
to splint that ankle now. Just keep on with what   
  
you've been doing, Agent Scully. You seem to be good   
  
medicine for him,"  
  
Mulder's ankle was splinted in record time with only   
  
a few moans and groans. Scully decided to take his   
  
pulse just to satisfy her curiosity and became quite   
  
concerned when she found it weaker. "Can't you get   
  
them to hurry it up?"  
  
"They've put another man on the detail, but remember,   
  
they have to look out for their own safety and ours,"   
  
the paramedic explained patiently. "Now, how about   
  
helping me clean up all of those little scrapes and   
  
cuts?"  
  
"Yes, of course."  
  
After cutting his shirt off, they cleaned and   
  
disinfected every visible break in Mulder's skin,   
  
periodically stopping to take his pulse and blood   
  
pressure. Neither was improving. Scully gently   
  
spread the blanket back over him and covered him with   
  
it.  
  
"Mmm, Scully?"  
  
"Right here partner."  
  
"Cold," he shivered.  
  
"It's snowing like crazy and very cold outside,"   
  
Scully explained.  
  
"You always wanted a window that you could open."   
  
Mulder's teeth chattered as he spoke."  
  
"Well, they say to be careful what you wish for. I   
  
guess I learned my lesson. Would you like another   
  
blanket?"  
  
"No, you need it."  
  
"I'm really not that cold." Scully spread the other   
  
blanket over him. "Better?"  
  
"Yeah, thanks. What time is it?"  
  
"Almost 7:30."  
  
"Guess we missed our dinner. Ahhh, my arm hurts."  
  
"I know it must really be painful, and there will be   
  
other dinners you know." Scully pasted a smile on   
  
her face, determined not to let him see her worry.   
  
It was taking too damned long to get them out and his   
  
condition was dangerous to say the least.  
  
There was some movement behind the paramedic and a   
  
new face appeared. "Hey, Win. You ready to get out   
  
of here?  
  
Scully turned to her partner, ready to share the good   
  
news with him. "Mulder, did you hear? We're getting   
  
out of here!"  
  
His eyes were closed and he gave no indication of   
  
hearing here. "Mulder?"  
  
Her hand went to his throat and found his pulse   
  
barely there. "Win! I need some help here!"  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
"One one thousand, two one thousand," chanted Scully,   
  
tears running down her cheeks as she pushed hard on   
  
Mulder's lifeless chest.  
  
The second she'd turned her head to call for help   
  
she'd lost his heartbeat and immediately started CPR,   
  
fighting her growing panic while Win breathed his own   
  
strong breath into Mulder.  
  
One giant fit of coughing later confirmed that   
  
miraculously, they had him back. Scully sent up a   
  
silent prayer for her Christmas miracle. Tears   
  
rolled down her dirt-smudged face as she worked on   
  
autopilot beside Win while they stabilized him.  
  
"It's okay, Mulder. It's okay now," she whispered,   
  
holding on tight to his wrist, feeling the thrill of   
  
life affirming pulse beneath her fingers. She became   
  
aware of the paramedic putting a comforting hand on   
  
her arm and she blew out the breath she hadn't   
  
realized she'd been holding.  
  
"You did great, Agent Scully. Now, let's get him out   
  
of here."  
  
Getting them all out, Mulder especially, was   
  
precarious at best. It took five other paramedics   
  
and rescue workers to get him through safely. They   
  
had strapped him up as best they could and then   
  
hastily transferred him to a backboard once they were   
  
clear of the debris field. It was freezing outside   
  
and Scully shivered from the cold and shock.  
  
Mulder remained unconscious for the most part except   
  
for a lucid moment when an artic blast peeled back   
  
the blanket from his body a little. His eyes opened   
  
and immediately sought out Scully who was by his   
  
side, tucking the blanket back over him. He gave her   
  
a tight smile, his eyes full of love.  
  
"My one in five billion." He trembled as they lifted   
  
him up and headed hastily toward the waiting   
  
ambulance. They moved away from the Hoover Building   
  
as if in slow motion, or at least it felt that way to   
  
Scully. The doctor in her began to shout that she   
  
must be in shock herself. If asked about that later,   
  
all she would remember was the blood, Mulder's blood,   
  
red on white and glistening in the glare of the   
  
police and ambulance lights.  
  
The next minutes were spent in a blur. The trip   
  
through driving snow to the hospital, the cold feel   
  
of Mulder's limp hand as she held onto it like it was   
  
the only thing grounding her to the planet, the soft   
  
instructions of the paramedic crew as they fought yet   
  
another Mulder crisis made time seem as if it was   
  
standing still. Scully's mind chanted, "Hurry up,   
  
hurry up, hurry up," until the ambulance pulled into   
  
the hospital.  
  
Countless cups of bad hospital coffee and the   
  
comforting presence of Walter Skinner got her through   
  
the next hours. He never left her side during the   
  
six plus hours of emergency vascular and orthopedic   
  
surgery that Mulder underwent, getting reports in   
  
person from several agents.  
  
Joe Melton, from accounting, had constructed a bomb   
  
in his apartment from instructions garnered from the   
  
Internet. Disjointed ramblings in his personal   
  
journal recounted harassment from some agents who   
  
were determined to bully and run roughshod over the   
  
normally mild-mannered man. He thought he could   
  
bring the whole building down by planting a bomb at   
  
the bottom of the basement steps. The terrorist   
  
alert would hopefully cover his tracks.   
  
The bomb was too small to achieve that lofty goal.   
  
He only succeeded in killing himself and injuring   
  
Mulder, who happened to be one of the few men who had   
  
treated him with respect.  
  
Exhaustion finally claimed Scully. She was sound   
  
asleep and covered by a blanket around her shoulders   
  
when the doctor came to tell her that Mulder was out   
  
of danger and in recovery. She wept in Skinner's   
  
arms, not caring who saw her tears, finally giving   
  
way to the untold stress she had held inside while   
  
her boss whispered quiet reassurances to her. He had   
  
cheated death yet again. She could scarcely believe   
  
it.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
Mulder's investigative mind got the distinct   
  
impression that Scully was being secretive as she   
  
pushed his wheelchair up to her apartment door. He   
  
hadn't wanted to travel home in a wheelchair, but he   
  
acquiesced once she gave him a look that brooked no   
  
challenge. With a struggle, she had managed to get   
  
the contraption in the elevator.  
  
Scully was making a big deal of looking for her keys.   
  
Mulder was just about to reach into his pocket and   
  
hand over his own when the door was opened by an   
  
overjoyed Frohike, wearing an apron, no less.  
  
"Hey, Mulder man, good to see ya, and the lovely   
  
Agent Scully." Mulder grinned as his height   
  
challenged friend came outside to assist wheeling him   
  
in to what Mulder could only describe as the most   
  
romantic setting he had ever laid eyes on. When he   
  
looked up at Scully, she was only able to nod, her   
  
eyes full of tears at what Frohike and company had   
  
managed to achieve in only a few hours. It was   
  
utterly beautiful. The tree, the table set for two   
  
and the candles looked perfect. Their friends were   
  
miracle workers and certainly lived up to their   
  
promise.  
  
"Scully, it's fantastic! You did this for us, Fro?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, sure. You are one lucky son-of-a-bitch,   
  
you know? You have a wonderful lady there. She told   
  
me your interrupted plans for a romantic soiree, so   
  
the guys and I decided to bring the mountain to   
  
Mohammad. Didn't think you'd want to go cruising   
  
with all that bruising, man. How ya doin'?"  
  
"Im . . .I'm good. My bruises kind of blend in with   
  
the tree decorations, and as much as I loved the   
  
holiday food in the hospital, I'm . . .what are those   
  
amazing smells coming from the kitchen . . .geez, you   
  
cooked too. Scully chuckled behind him, wiping her   
  
tears.  
  
"Yup, the food is all ready and just needs to be put   
  
on the table, and I even took the liberty of fetching   
  
the Christmas stocking with Scully's gifts like you   
  
asked me.  
  
Mulder looked sheepish as he turned to Scully's   
  
questioning smile.  
  
"Mulder?"  
  
"You're not the only one who can make clandestine   
  
phone calls, Scully. Merry Christmas, a little late.   
  
I love you." Scully squealed with delight as Frohike   
  
handed Mulder the gifts to give her. Then he blushed   
  
as she flung herself into Mulder's embrace.  
  
"Uh, this night belongs to the two of you. I may be   
  
a jackass but I can cook. Enjoy and have a   
  
wonderful, romantic evening. You lucky dog," he   
  
whispered as an afterthought in Mulder's ear as the   
  
little man made his exit, yelling ho, ho, ho loudly   
  
as he made his way down the hall.  
  
"Night Fro and thanks." They both laughed, hugging   
  
each other.  
  
"Scully, I love you so much." Mulder took her hands   
  
and pulled her to him.  
  
"I love you too, more than you could ever imagine.   
  
Together we will rebuild the X-Files. We are   
  
together in every sense of the word now." She hugged   
  
him again as he blinked back tears. Somehow the   
  
wrecked office seemed less important tonight. He had   
  
all he wanted right here.  
  
"I know, but for tonight we have this and there are a   
  
few things I've been longing to tell you. My heart   
  
can't hold them in anymore."  
  
"That's wonderful, Mulder, because I want to hear   
  
them. I want our truth."  
  
"The truth is in here." His hand closed over hers   
  
and brought it to rest over his heart.  
  
Together they celebrated their Christmas miracle over   
  
a wonderful, magical meal, watching the love they had   
  
for each other reflect in each other's eyes,   
  
listening to the snow fall softly against the window.  
  
The End 


End file.
